Voices

I am seeking a book, something that I think of as 'a way out.' To retrieve it I am drifting through a cloud of abstracts that sometimes resolve themselves into words floating in the cloud. They are dream images, illusions, but grasping the illusionary versions of this book will gradually lead me to the real thing. But they are difficult to capture - it is like trying to scoop up something small floating on water, if you are not careful the water will carry it right out of your hand again. It takes patience and deliberation and allowing the words to drift into my grasp. I take hold of one word, feeling the substance of it. This changes the images that are drifting around me - now they are closer to the subject of that word, closer to what I am seeking, and many of them are in the form of books rather than individual words. I repeat this process, releasing the word I had a hold of and reaching for the first relevant image that drifts into my grasp, and every time I repeat this process there are less individual words and more books, and the images displayed on the covers of the books become more and more relevant. Now many of the books show images of a demonic face, which is heading in the right direction, but which also has drawn attention. A man I am familiar with begins speaking with me, a demon or something close enough - I have forgotten the content of this one-sided conversation except that it was about that book I am searching for. Our surroundings have gotten more solid by this point, and as I move through the cloud I find wooden steps under my feet. I come up the steps into a room full of books piled haphazardly on wooden tables. There is a young human woman here looking through the books - long dark hair, blue jeans and white t-shirt, I recognize her as someone who has a history with that demon I have been speaking with. Her name's Dawn. Their interactions are familiar but antagonistic - she once struggled with him and lost, though I am not sure she is realized she is lost yet. In any case, she came to him to search for something, but she failed and became trapped in a dream. It seems she is still searching for whatever it is. I find that sad to watch. She looks at the demon as he climbs up the stairs behind me - or I assume she does; I have not seen him, he is just a voice to me, but she is looking right through me and to the place I believe he would be. In annoyance at his presence, she moves to another stack of books, further away. The demon sounds amused as he calls to her. It occurs to me as I watch her that I have been consciously thinking of this as a dream for some time now. Since it seems she cannot see me, I decide to step aside and watch the two of them. I settle down on a white couch out of the way and allow my perspective to change slightly. I can see the demon now, and <PERSON>'s appearance has changed as well, both of them now dressed from the late 1700s, France - their hairstyles and clothes are looking rough, as if they started out with a fine presentation but over time the polished image has fallen apart. He is struck up a conversation, and eventually she says to him, "The doctor warns that (something to do with a slow death), and my minutes are done." She sounds defiantly happy about this, as if it is a kind of victory over the demon.